Just This Once
by shippingslut
Summary: The only thing harder for Michonne than dealing with her roommate's obsessive cleaning is quite possibly averting her gaze when he does it in his underwear. Based on the prompt: one of them is really messy and the other(s) is/are tired of cleaning up after them. AU - No Zombies.


More than anything, Michonne missed the pleasure of removing her bra the moment she walked through the front door. It was an old habit, a good habit, one that she'd been forced to break. It was unfair really, but when was life ever fair? She also yearned for the days when she didn't have to immediately kick off her heels and straighten them neatly by the door, right next to the large pair of boots that almost always beat her home. But she neither had the time nor the energy for the argument that would've ensued.

For a man that had spent his life as a bachelor, Shane Walsh sure was a stickler for a tidy house.

Maybe it was from his time in the police academy or maybe it was from his years spent attempting to impress and lure his poor conquests into bed. But whatever the reason, Michonne made sure when she removed her black pumps that they weren't laying haphazardly in a pile. Freeing her feet was the closest she'd come to an orgasm in months, something else that was unfair.

Men like Shane got to play cops and robbers all day in trusty boots that looked far more comfortable than the torture devices she was forced to wear on her feet all day, even though her job was just as important. Who did they think prosecuted all the trash he cleared off the streets?

"That you?"

Shane's voice came from the kitchen and Michonne followed the sound, stopping in her tracks at the sight that greeted her.

He was standing by the sink in nothing but his black boxer briefs, scrubbing the last of the dishes. Would it kill him to put on clothes once in a while? There was a reason she left the bra on until she was ready for bed - just because they were roommates didn't mean there shouldn't be some boundaries, but it seemed Shane had missed that memo. As had his v-lines and strong, thick thighs.

"Who else would it be?" she asked, averting her gaze and going to the fridge to grab a beer. "Or are you expecting company tonight?"

"Nah, it's a work night. Don't have time to pretend I'll call 'em again when Rick's waiting on me at six am."

"Thank God." Michonne just tossed the cap to her beer on the counter, taking a healthy drink. "You might not have time in the mornings to chase 'em off but some of us don't have time at night to listen to their fake moans through these thin walls."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong," Shane said, turning around to face her with a sly smile on his face and the dishtowel draped over his shoulder.

"What? You think I can't hear them?"

"Oh no, I'm sure you can," he answered proudly. "But the moans? They ain't fake, darlin'."

When he winked Michonne just rolled her eyes and guzzled the beer, setting the empty bottle down on the counter.

Of course, she'd known what Shane's next words would be. Sometimes she did it just to get a rise out of him, but other times, she really was just too exhausted.

"Do you not know where the trash is?" Shane asked, picking it up for her and dumping it in the bin under the sink, along with the lid she'd neglected.

"And can you not chill for one night? I would've taken care of it before I went to sleep."

"We both know that's a lie."

She couldn't argue - he was right. More often than not, Michonne did forget. She'd never been the type to nitpick. Who cared if a bottle sat on the counter until the morning when she could toss it away after breakfast? Or if her shoes were a mess by the front door? If someone tripped over them, that was their problem.

She'd never been a sloppy person, just not a perfectionist - something that seemed to drive her roommate crazy. Was it really the end of the world if she left the kitchen cabinets open after grabbing a granola bar or if her files and paperwork piled up on the countertops? Or, the worst crime one could ever commit according to Shane, if she left the lights on after leaving the house in the mornings?

"Speaking of which, can you get your laundry out of the dryer?" Shane asked her.

"Give me a second," Michonne sighed. "I just got home, can I please get out of these clothes first?"

"By all means…." Shane's answer trailed off, his eyes trailing over her body as he bit his bottom lip. Only once he'd drank his fill did eyes return to her face.

At least the rent was cheap.

That was what Michonne kept on a loop in her head as she grabbed some clothes for a shower and quickly scrubbed down in the hot water. Moving into Shane's spare bedroom was affording her the ability to save up to own a home one day, no longer would she be paying someone else's mortgage for them. There was that silver lining, at least.

A home that she would not only own but one that would be entirely hers, one she could decorate how she pleased, have company when she wanted or, more importantly, _didn't_ want. Bachelor pads with mismatch furniture and ESPN always on the television would be in her rearview. At thirty-five, she had more horror roommate stories than most people.

Maybe Shane was borderline obsessive with his cleaning but at least he wasn't like her college roommate that had thought their dorm was just one big trash can. And maybe he didn't seem to understand how draining her job could be but at least he had a job too, an equally as important one, one he took seriously. He could hold things down on his own. Nothing at all like her last housemate who had quit their job and expected Michonne to foot the bill for just a few weeks, or so they'd claimed. Perhaps his one night stands were something left to be desired, but at least he made sure they left before they grew comfortable enough to eat all of Michonne's food - another problem she'd had numerous times in the past.

And quite possibly, besides his cleaning, his most annoying habit was in inability to keep his eyes in his head. But, well, at least he offered up some eye-candy of his own when he paraded around half-naked.

They were all the reminders she kept repeating to herself as she got dressed, slipping into a pair of pajama shorts and a button-up shirt she'd stolen from the last man she'd slept with. He hadn't lasted long, they never did. Most men simply couldn't deal with a woman who loved her briefcase more than them.

A briefcase she'd purposely left in her car for the night.

Surely, missing one night of work wouldn't kill her, right? There was always tomorrow morning over coffee to catch up, or so she told herself when she settled on her bed with her laptop, swearing she was only going to check social media and maybe, if she was feeling particularly wild, watch something on Netflix. A lie that took only five minutes to reveal itself.

Michonne was deep in her emails, already firing out a few replies when Shane knocked on her bedroom door.

"Yes?" she asked, grumbling at the intrusion. "It's open."

At least he knocked?

"You forget your laundry?" Shane asked, leaning against her doorframe. "It's been a few minutes."

He was still in just his underwear and Michonne was still frustrated at the sight. Frustrated by the words too. It was like living with her father.

"Just give me a few, please? I wanna finish this email."

Her eyes didn't leave the screen as she continued to type but Shane didn't leave either.

"C'mon. I gotta get my uniforms in the dryer so I can iron 'em before I can go to bed."

"Give me a few, please," she repeated, not wanting to lose her train of thought.

"I already did."

She ignored him, feeling a little bit guilty, but he just made it too easy. Especially when he just went on, not caring that she was in the middle of an email that could potentially change a client's life.

"Ya know, it'd be really nice if just this once.._.just once_, I could get my shit dry without finding your clothes in there first. How hard is it to remember your laundry?"

"And how hard it is to remember to wear pants?" Michonne snapped, finally looking at him.

"I'm comfortable," he said. "Didn't realize it got you so...bothered."

That puffed up grin on his face was enough to make Michonne shake her head, her eyes going back to her laptop's screen. He didn't even deserve a response. And maybe if he wasn't standing there, watching her every move, she might have actually gotten up to get her clothes.

"So? You gonna get up or...nah?"

Her concentration was gone but she pretended to type anyway.

"I've seen trees grow faster than you're movin', you know that?"

"Okay, Mr. Clean. I heard you."

"Well ain't that cute."

"You know what studies say, right?" Michonne asked, flashing him her most charming smile. "Messier, unorganized people tend to have higher IQs."

The comment seemed to do the job. Shane just rubbed the back of his head and growled, finally leaving her alone. Michonne could hear him in the laundry room, unloading the dryer himself, but before she could even congratulate herself on a job well done, he was back, with a basket full of her clothes.

"Seeing as how you're so busy, how about I help you out?" he asked, inviting himself into her room and dumping the clothes on the foot of her bed.

"How about you-"

Michonne closed her mouth before she could finish the objection. If he wanted to annoy her, why not let him? Shane had already started folding her clothes, humming loudly as he worked, but who cared if it meant she didn't have to do it? Already her plans for the night had gone to hell, why not get some laundry done if nothing else?

"You should wear these more often," Shane said, interrupting her as she opened a tab to Netflix.

Michonne glanced up, just in time to see him stretching a small, black thong in between his hands.

"Never struck me as the whale-tail type," he went on, still refusing to let them go.

"They're to prevent panty lines in certain outfits," Michonne shrugged, pretending not to be bothered by the sight of his large hands on her panties. "Maybe if you slept with a woman that was actually old enough to have a career you'd know that. Not every pair of underwear is intended for a man's eyes. "

"Clearly. Because when _was_ the last time you brought a guy home? Oh...that's right, never," his obnoxious laughter made her blood boil but it was a fair dig. "'Cause you're too busy sending little emails and working on that big IQ of yours, ain't ya?"

Closing her laptop and setting it on her nightstand, Michonne officially gave up.

She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back, watching Shane fold her clothes. She had to give him credit - he did make quick work of it, but Michonne was in no mood to compliment him. Especially not when he glanced up at her every few seconds, waiting for a comeback, wanting to get a rise out of her. She wouldn't give him that either.

Once the last pair of pants had been folded, Shane immediately started walking around her room, opening her drawers to start putting things away. Michonne sat still and watched, not even bothering to tell him what actually belonged in the closet and what didn't. He was putting on quite a little show, commenting on the dust bunnies that covered her dresser and being as loud as humanly possible. When he suggested she needed a deep cleaning because of the two water bottles she'd collected, Michonne almost rolled her eyes.

Maybe she actually would have if she hadn't been busy tracking his every movement around her bedroom, the muscles in his back flexing as he bent and moved, the bulge in his boxer briefs more visible than ever when she viewed him from the side. It was large, just like the rest of him.

It was at that moment Michonne realized she was long overdue for something deep, but it wasn't a cleaning.

"Top drawer, right?" Shane asked, holding the stack of her panties, what he'd saved for last. "Don't everyone keep 'em in the top drawer?"

Michonne almost let him do it. Almost. Until she remembered what toys lurked in her top drawer and the field day Shane would have with such a discovery.

"Stop," Michonne told him, getting out of bed far quicker than necessary.

"Why? Somethin' in there you don't me seein'?"

"Just stop."

Already she was standing right in front of him, both of them paused by her dresser. The scent of Shane's Old Spice hit her and Michonne couldn't remember the last time her nostrils had gotten such a deep inhale of something so beautifully masculine. Shane only had a few inches in height on her, but Michonne felt small standing so close to him, perhaps because of his thick, muscled waist and large arms. Whatever the reason, Michonne just froze, half hating herself for being taken aback by being so close to him.

"Cat got your tongue?" Shane asked after the silence had stretched a beat too long.

"No. I just...just, stop."

"You don't wanna me going in there? Must have somethin' good lurkin' those drawers."

His voice dropped and Michonne felt her heart pound a little harder when Shane took a step closer, barely leaving an inch between them. He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin, something else she hadn't felt in forever.

Maybe there was something good lurking under her intimates but they couldn't compete with the real thing. Warm, hard, the real thing was capable of grunting in response. The real thing had tight abs and thick, dark hair. Maybe, just maybe, the real thing could really make her moans float through the walls too.

"Well?" he asked, the stack of underwear still in his large hand.

"Drop 'em," Michonne answered, finally looking up and locking her gaze with his.

In the past, she'd seen Shane's eyes in those last few blissful moments before sleep, always as he passed out on the couch watching a game. How lazy they got, how dark, and Michonne was willing to bet her half of the rent that they looked just the same when they were aroused - the way he was looking at her now.

"Drop what?"

"My panties," she said...realizing only too late how ridiculous it sounded, how it made him grin too.

"Really? You sure you want that?"

Shane bit down on his bottom lip and held Michonne's stare, all the while she struggled to say anything else. He was too close comfort and she was too frustrated.

She did want it.

Finally, she squared her chin up and went for it. Why not? Would he really do it? Would he have the nerve?

"Positive," she confirmed, refusing to whisper.

He dropped the stack of panties in his hand so quickly that Michonne's eyes actually widened when they fluttered to the floor, spreading out in a mess.

"You gonna pick that up?" she asked in disbelief.

Shane was supposed to throw a hissy fit about a mess, not make one.

Of course, she knew why. A suspicion that was confirmed when he took the smallest step forward, finally grabbing her by the hips and pressing their bodies together.

So, he did have the nerve.

"You still want me to pick 'em up?"

Shane leaned in to whisper the question and she could feel the tiny hairs on her arms rising from the warm breath against her ear. It wasn't too late to pull away, Michonne could still pull the plug. He was giving her an out but the problem was that she didn't want one, not really.

And when his hands finally explored her ass, gripping hard to her cheeks, Michonne's lips parted on a sigh, filled with a need she hadn't acknowledged in far too long. Maybe a little pride too. Shane had been staring at her ass since the day she'd moved in and in that moment of weakness, when his fingers were caressing her flesh, it was easy to be happy for him. Plus, she knew she had a damn good ass.

"Well?" he asked, freeing one hand to tilt her chin and lean in close to her lips. "You want me to pick them up?"

Michonne could only shake her head.

She missed the pleased smirk on his face. Already her eyes were closing as he wet his lips, finally closing in on her mouth.

Was it her that sighed when their lips finally connected or Shane?

Michonne felt his thumb still holding her chin in place, brushing over her bottom lip with the gentlest of tugs, until finally, his skilled tongue slipped between her lips as Michonne yielded to him. One hand was still holding on to her ass, the other tilting her mouth, and she could feel the warmth in her body spreading down every limb until her legs trembled.

Somehow, knowing that it was Shane, of all people, erasing her aches from the workday away with his hands and lips only served to awaken her more, until she too was clinging to him, her hands clawing at his waist, moaning into his mouth as she deepened their kiss.

Gradually, Shane started easing them towards the bed, and never before had Michonne found herself so eager to follow behind a man's footsteps. She clung to him as he leisurely led the way, and because there was only thin fabric separating their bodies, Michonne could feel him slowly coming life against her. Every time her tongue grazed his she felt Shane pulse against her, hardening more and more the closer they got to the foot of her bed.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected from him.

For Shane to toss her down, rip off her clothes and bury himself in the blink of an eye?

Of course, he didn't. If nothing else, Shane had attention for detail. Michonne should've seen it coming when he finally let her loose, his heavy eyes watching as she nestled into the bed, easing in place beside her instead of immediately making himself at home between her thighs - where she wanted him.

Michonne traced the stubble on his strong jaw when their mouths met again in an open-mouthed kiss, wet and slow, the sound of their lips working together doing nothing to relieve the blaze that was burning low in Michonne's abdomen.

"You startin' to wish you'd just gotten your clothes?" Shane asked, his deep voice barely a whisper, and already Michonne missed his lips against hers, his tongue, even his flavor.

"Maybe," she lied. "Then again maybe, I'm glad I didn't. You know...just this once."

Hearing his words repeated back to him seemed to have the desired effect. Shane tipped his head to her with a grin, acknowledging her well-played comment but before Michonne could make another wisecrack, his hand traced the trail of buttons on her shirt and she shivered in response. Her stomach fluttered when he unfastened the first button, his eyes glued to her face, watching her reactions.

Shane was painstakingly slow in his efforts.

By the time he finally got to the second button on her shirt, Michonne was on edge - desperately wishing she could feel his skin on her chest, that there was no fabric separating his big hands from the breast he brushed over before going for the third button. The only time he ever looked away from her face was to lean in and give the area of skin he'd just exposed a slow kiss, making Michonne's nipples harden in anticipation.

Once he'd worked his magic on her buttons, Shane pulled both sides of the shirt back, exposing her chest to him, a pleased grin spreading across his lips. If he made no effort in hiding how eager he was to drink in the sight before him, Michonne saw no point in being shy either. She laid under his watchful gaze, allowing his eyes to explore her body, a gentle hand placed on his jaw when he eventually met her eyes again.

Finally, his finger traced her areola and not until he milked a moan from her that could've been heard throughout the quiet house did Shane finally brush his thumb over her impossibly stiff bud.

MIchonne's thighs parted in response, it felt like he was stroking two places at once, the need he built upstairs making her throb down below, wishing his hand was between her legs instead. But he was patient, thorough, and he paid no mind to her back arching in abandonment.

The gentle kiss he placed on her heated skin only made the fire between her legs burn hotter.

She'd known what he was going to do before he did it, but it still didn't stop Michonne from gasping when his lips finally found her other nipple and latched on, his tongue flicking and sucking to the same rhythm of the hand working the other bud.

"Shane…"

She whimpered his name, feeling powerless, her hands grabbing his hair and digging into his scalp.

His mouth kept at, even when Michonne could feel him laugh against her skin. The suction of his wet mouth only made the moisture grow in other places, forcing Michonne to cry out again, recognizing the sounds of her own moans.

She'd heard similar noises radiating from his bedroom before.

Finally, he released her, his lips making a loud pop, shamelessly, and Michonne ached to feel his mouth return. She'd been right there, hanging from the end of her rope, and the only reason she hadn't let go was that she didn't want it to be over, not yet.

His necklace danged between them, the 22 pendant that he never took off, and Michonne wondered how many other women had watched it swing from his sweaty collarbones. She wasn't sure if she should thank the ladies that had came before her and trained his beautifully, skilled hands and mouth or if she should be jealous. Maybe she'd always been jealous.

"You still think all them moans were fake?" he asked, finally settling himself between her thighs. "Hmm?"

Before she could answer he kissed her neck and grinded between her legs. They were both still wearing their bottoms but Michonne didn't need him nude to feel his size or how hard he'd become.

"Is that all your mouth is good for? Running?" Michonne answered his question with one of her own and Shane simply laughed, pressing harder against her.

"You like it. You want my mouth?"

He kissed her neck and it was impossible for Michonne not to imagine that warm tongue somewhere else - the place where her body was aching, aching so badly her hips rose to seek relief.

"Yes..." she finally answered, the word catching in her throat.

"Mmm, that right? What else you want?"

Again he had pressure between their bodies, his cock digging into Michonne, using every bit of muscle he could to add friction and Michonne would've known - she could feel his ass under her hands clenching from the effort.

"That?" he whispered, the sweat from his brow dripping onto Michonne's skin just as his cock dug into her. "Hmm?"

She couldn't answer with her words. Not when her eyes closed and she was imagining him slipping inside of her, every thick stiff inch.

Yes, she very much did want that.

Eventually, she just nodded, her lips trembling over a sound that was supposed to be his name, her legs shaking just as badly, as Shane finally worked a hand between their bodies and started yanking her shorts and panties off.

Michonne expected him to be just as agonizingly patient when his head of dark hair traveled south, kissing his way down her belly, but much to her surprise, Shane went straight for it. Her thighs were already parted, desperately waiting on relief and when his mouth found her, wet and sticky, Shane gave her a hearty lick with his tongue flat, tasting her in one quick, fluid motion.

Again, he did it, until he pulled a moan from so deep within her that Michonne felt it release just a bit of the pressure building between her legs. All she could do was strain against his face and beg him to keep going, to grip his hands when he moaned at her flavor.

And Shane was a good listener.

He licked her slit, his tongue brushing over her clit with each wet stroke, but it was never quite enough. Each flick felt like it was hitting a nerve, making her entire body shiver and her toes curl, but it was nothing at all like the sweet relief that came when he finally sought that hard, tiny bud out, adding as much suction as his mouth allowed, forcing Michonne's ass off the bed.

Her whimpers were building, just like the arousal between her thighs. Michonne knew Shane's stubble was growing slick in her juices, she could feel it rubbing her fiery flesh raw but knowing he refused to let go just made her rut against him harder, her moans growing in volume.

Finally, she spread eagle for him and he took the opportunity to pin her thighs to the mattress, all the while his mouth never let up.

If anything the suction increased and Michonne was squirming to cope, jerking his head so she could rut against his face. If Shane minded, his deep moans said otherwise.

She was hanging off that cliff, so close to letting go. Every muscle in her body was straining as she gasped, the scent of her own arousal clinging to the air, and just as her body was about to take the plunge, Shane's mouth released her as he pulled up for air and left her crying out.

"No…"

Michonne hated how needy she sounded, how desperate.

She also felt her annoyance at her roommate flair up again, for the first time since they'd started. Especially when he got on his knees and just grinned at her anguish.

"Yes," he assured her, finally pulling his boxer briefs down and maneuvering out of them.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest, so hard Michonne was worried it'd never beat right again, at least not until he put her out of her misery. Getting so close to only be denied was quite possibly the most annoying thing he'd ever done to her.

"You happen to have a condom in that top drawer of yours?" he asked, tossing his underwear on the floor.

"No."

"I got some in my room...if you want me to leave and get 'em."

Was it possible for her heart to drop into her stomach? The idea of taking a break, no matter how quickly, was nothing short of misery.

"I'm….I'm on the pill," she struggled to say, too distracted by the sight of his naked flesh.

It was with a smug little grin that he settled back between her thighs and Michonne was quick to run her hands over his strong, sweaty shoulders and meet his eyes.

The real thing was so much better than she'd remembered.

Maybe the toys in her drawer could get the job done but having a real man, flesh and blood, between her legs and aligning himself at her entrance was irreplaceable. Michonne didn't anxiously anticipate what a toy would do, she couldn't caress their soft sides, they didn't steal her breath away when they finally pushed inside of her inch by inch or make Michonne groan when she felt her slick, oversensitive walls stretch.

The real thing was capable of grunting once he was buried inside her, his balls pressed against her ass.

Michonne could smell his deodorant working overtime, his body was slick with sweat as it clung to her, and the first roll of Shane's hips had them both frantically gripping each other.

She'd already been so close, right on the peak, that Shane's thrusts were almost too much at first. Her legs wrapped around his thick waist, her heels digging into his ass and it only served to fuel him on. When he rolled his hips and kissed her lips, Michonne could taste her own flavor as his tongue slid into her mouth, and Shane was eager to share.

He was eager to share the rest of himself too.

He grinded into her, hard and deep, hitting Michonne in places she'd never been sure really existed.

Every time he thrusted, Michonne clung tighter, her hips rising to meet him, her walls starting to flutter and ache. She was full of him, tight and wet, and each grind had her panting into his mouth.

The room was growing uncomfortably hot, even though all her blankets and sheets had been worked off the bed, and for a split second Michonne stopped to question if the mess was bothering the man inside of her. But she knew it was a simple distraction, trying to delay the moment she unraveled because she was getting there quickly.

His strokes increased, Shane bottoming out hard every time their bodies rocked and Michonne could feel the pressure inside of her about to boil over. Shane kept pounding into that spot that made her entire body shudder, all the while grinding against her clit, and Michonne wasn't sure who was making what sounds anymore, not that she could hear them much over the groaning from her mattress.

Not until Shane started to tense, his grinding growing purposeful and his whimpers growing weaker did Michonne finally allow herself that bliss.

He pushed inside her again, every burning inch of his cock finally pushing her over that peak. When his hand forced her to look him in the eye as she unraveled, Michonne obeyed, her legs releasing him so he could push in as deep as her body would allow while crying out in pleasure.

Shane's eyes stayed open as he watched her, his breath hot and warm, all the while Michonne created a puddle between them.

She knew he was hot on her heels. His hair was nearly black with perspiration and his body shook as he thrusted into her climax, burying his head into her neck. Michonne felt too sensitive after the climax that had just shaken her to the core, but she massaged his nape anyway, moaning along with him until finally he tensed in her embrace and Michonne knew he was unloading inside of her as deeply as he could manage. A few more strokes, calming in intensity, and Michonne knew he was spent.

She was too.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Michonne finally said, attempting to steady her breathing when Shane eventually rolled off her. "Fuck me."

She heard Shane snort before she turned to face him, both of them splayed out in her bed, trying to cool their sweaty limbs.

"I thought I just did," he said, grabbing her arm and pull her towards him.

Maybe it did feel good to finally get some air, but laying against his chest wasn't so bad either. If she'd already broken the most important rule of having a roommate, why not one more? Why not wrap a thigh around his naked body, still semi-hard, and bury her face into him.

She wouldn't have taken him for the type to run a hand down her back or place a gentle kiss into her dreads, yet Shane did it all the same, finally interlocking his fingers with the hand she'd rested on his abs.

"What about your uniforms?" she asked, hoping maybe he'd go, despite knowing she didn't want him to. "Don't you have to iron them?"

The last question was nothing more than a tease. Surely, the man who chased behind her with a Lysol wipe wouldn't let his uniforms sit, getting wrinkles in the dryer until morning.

"You got your phone set to go off in the mornin', yeah?"

"Yeah," Michonne agreed, her eyes growing heavy as she watched his thumb stroke her hand.

"There ya go. There's always tomorrow for dreams to come true."

Where was this relaxed man any other time? If she weren't so tired, Michonne might've commented on it.

"Who said you were sleepin' in here?" she asked instead. "Hmm?"

"Surely don't seem like you want me to leave."

Already, his heartbeat was calming in his chest and Michonne had to admit, she'd fallen asleep listening to worse things.

"Fine," she mumbled. "But just this once."


End file.
